Be patient, tried one, for thy Jesus knows,
And hath a healing balm for all thy woes,
Appoints what time thy sorrows to remove—
His yoke upon thy neck is only love.
Be patient, sufferer, glory give to God:
‘Tis not in anger He applies the rod;
But that the graces He hath wrought in thee
By His own Spirit, all may clearly sec.
‘Tis thus His sons are made for glory meet;
They taste some nauseous drops before the sweet;
Their Lord hath spared them more—
He drained the cup of bitterness, when He was lifted up!